By Any Other Name
by Zash Angelus
Summary: With the kind of determination that comes from a spontaneous decision, Pontmercy cuts his hair and leaves home to transform his life, his name, and himself. Courfeyrac takes him under his wing and introduces him to some young men who understand what he's going through. But no community borne from struggle is without cracks beneath its surface. (Trans!Amis. All of them.)
1. Scenes 1 & 2

I'm supposed to be writing a play script for a class, so I'm writing a script fanfic instead.

This is my first attempt at a "closet drama," a play intended to be read rather than performed. That said, it's still written as if on-stage. It is based loosely on my own experiences as a female-to-male trans person, the kind of communities I frequent or have previously frequented, and research into various FtM experiences. Also, I've always wanted to write a fic where all of Les Amis are FtM.

There may be pairings, but I haven't planned that far ahead.

Warnings for the fic overall: transphobia, lesbophobia, homophobia. Occasional slurs related to such. Intra-community issues. Internalized prejudice due to religion. Drug and alcohol usage. Vivid descriptions of gender dysphoria. Various trans men in various (often unfortunate) situations trying to cope however they can. Any future warnings not listed here will be forewarned in front of the chapters where they occur.

This is a re-upload. I deleted the last version because I had put it under the Plays/Musicals category without even thinking there might be a separate LM section under Books. Despite its format, this fic is more based on the collective essence of Les Mis than any particular adaptation, so I'd rather have it under this category.

* * *

SCENE 1

[ _Lights up. Modern day. Pontmercy stands alone, placed in front of a small trash bin. He wears his father's old military uniform, which is at least two sizes too big, but it does well to distract him from the shape of his body. Chairs and tables in the background vaguely suggest their later usage, but the light does not yet cast itself over them. Pontmercy's hair is long and shiny, below waist-level. He makes a show of trying to put it in a ponytail. He struggles and fumbles, at one point getting it in but deciding it still isn't right and doing it all over again._

_Finally, he gathers it all into a proper ponytail, very pleased with the result. He pulls a pair of scissors from his pocket, and his pleased look vanishes. He holds the scissors in both hands as he takes a deep breath. He closes his eyes, his brows painfully furrowed._ ]

PONTMERCY  
Forgive me, father.

[ _He opens his eyes and sets them upward. His heart pounds, but he is resolute._ ]

PONTMERCY  
Forgive me, Father.

[ _He takes the ponytail in one hand, the scissors in the other. With the deafening crunch of thick hair being split, he removes the ponytail in one simple, quick motion. He steels himself as he dangles the ponytail over the bin, his heartbeat picking up in pace and volume. There is a pause filled only by his shaking breath and his beating heart. When he drops the ponytail, all releases. He breathes a sigh of relief that comes out as a giddy chuckle. Setting the scissors aside, he runs both hands along the back of his head. He tries to find the words to express himself, but comes up short. He continues to chuckle to himself as his fingers run through short, uneven waves of hair._

_Hear an offstage scream from Pontmercy's aunt. He whips around as if to face her._ ]

AUNT GILLENORMAND [ _offstage:_ ]  
My Lord, Ève, your hair! What have you done to it? Wait until your Grandfather sees what you've…

[ _The voice of Gillenormand joins hers offstage. Both voices scold Pontmercy, but all he hears from them is angry gibberish. He turns back around, putting his focus on the ponytail curled up in the trash bin. He pulls a flip-phone out of his other pocket and lifts his head as he dials. The voices of his relatives continue, but they grow fainter as he listens to the waiting tone. His call is answered._ ]

PONTMERCY  
Hey, Courf? [ _Pause._ ] Could I come over to your place? [ _Pause._ ] Thank you. I'm on my way now.

END SCENE

* * *

SCENE 2

[_ Courfeyrac's apartment. One of the tables and a couple of chairs come forward. As the lights come up, Pontmercy is seated in one of the chairs. He is still in military pants, though he has taken off the top to reveal a loose t-shirt underneath. Courfeyrac, a well-dressed young man, stands behind him, critically combing through Pontmercy's impromptu haircut with his fingers. _]

COURFEYRAC  
It's a mess.

PONTMERCY  
I'm a mess.

COURFEYRAC  
You made a bold move.

PONTMERCY  
I'm going to Hell.

COURFEYRAC  
Hey, no. You look at me. [ _Pontmercy doesn't look up. _] Alright. Do you think Bossuet is going to Hell?

PONTMERCY  
Well, no. I don't know. I don't want to say yes.

COURFEYRAC  
Then don't be so quick to say it about yourself. Okay? Did you read the article I sent you?

PONTMERCY  
Grandpa monitors my computer usage. And when he found out what I was looking up on my phone, he replaced it with a flip phone.

COURFEYRAC  
He monitors your computer? You're a whole adult. [ _Pontmercy hunches his shoulders in embarrassment. Courfeyrac sighs. _] I'll print out a paper copy. And there're more where that came from. Wearing a uniform and getting a haircut are not grounds for condemnation, and neither is being yourself. Okay? [ _Pontmercy nods but isn't convinced. _] Now, if you're going to do this, I'll have to call someone who can fix your hair.

PONTMERCY  
I don't know that I want to do this.

COURFEYRAC  
You cut your hair and ran away from home. You want to do _something_.

PONTMERCY  
It was spur-of-the-moment. I might go back.

COURFEYRAC  
They'll never accept you.

PONTMERCY  
Neither do I, so it all works out. [ _Pause. _] Alexandre?

COURFEYRAC  
What is it?

PONTMERCY [_ slowly: _]  
Alexandre Jacques Courfeyrac. Why?

COURFEYRAC  
Why did I pick that name? [ _Pontmercy nods. _] Well, back before my transition, I was with this girl- very openly. Some deadbeat jock wanders over to us one night and starts making fun of me and my femme, calling us backward dykes, you know the drill. So me- in all my punk butch gear from back in the day- I go up to him, ask if he's jealous about my femme. Well, that just escalates the situation, because obviously, I'm right. Who wouldn't be jealous of my femme? [ _More seriously:_ ] Cishet men must be approached very delicately by trans men and sapphics on the subject of women, Pontmercy, unless you're looking for a fight.

And that's exactly what happened. The guy hooks me in the left shoulder. [_ Courfeyrac throws his shoulder back, for dramatic effect. _] So I go where it hurts. [ _He puts his hand into a fist and mimes a jab at the imaginary man's crotch. _] Long story short, I was ready to kick ass and take names, and I did take his name, literally. Alexandre Jacques can suck it.

[_ Pontmercy's eyes widen. _]

PONTMERCY  
R-Really?

COURFEYRAC  
Nope! I think it might be how Bahorel got his name, though. Look at this pretty face; do I look like I've ever been in a fight?

PONTMERCY  
I don't know.

COURFEYRAC  
Well. The punk gear was real, but I haven't dressed like that since lycée, and I never had the roughness to keep up with it. My style was a little sleeker. I caught up with proper men's fashion real quick.

PONTMERCY  
Then where does your name come from?

COURFEYRAC  
You know Alexandre le Grand?

PONTMERCY  
Of course! I'm surprised you'd take interest in a king, but now it all- [ _Courfeyrac smirks. _] You're teasing me.

COURFEYRAC  
No, I'm only joking around. [ _This doesn't make Pontmercy feel any better. _] Okay, okay. I'm sorry. It's just, I wish there was some cool story behind it. My birth name was Alexandra Jacqueline. It was easier for everyone involved to keep the change straightforward.

PONTMERCY  
You could have chosen anything.

COURFEYRAC  
Yeah, but I don't really use my first name that much.

PONTMERCY  
Where did Bossuet get his names from?

COURFEYRAC  
They were the names of some of his relatives, I think. Except for the nicknames; those are just little jokes.

PONTMERCY  
...I want to find a new name.

COURFEYRAC  
Oh yeah?

PONTMERCY  
I'm sick of people calling me Ève. Like the first woman. I can't live up to that, and I'm not sure I want to. Every time I bite into an apple, I feel like God is watching.

COURFEYRAC  
Then you're ready to take the plunge?

PONTMERCY  
I'm ready to try something. To _do _something.

COURFEYRAC  
Then the first thing we'll do is get your hair fixed. I'm going to text Feuilly.

[_ Courfeyrac takes out his phone. Pontmercy pales and jumps out of his seat. _]

PONTMERCY  
Wait!

COURFEYRAC  
What?

PONTMERCY  
I'm not ready- if someone sees me like this-

COURFEYRAC  
Calm down, Pontmercy. Feuilly isn't going to judge you; he's gone through the same thing that you're going through. That all of us have gone through.

PONTMERCY  
I suppose that's alright, then.

COURFEYRAC  
Good, because he's on his way.

PONTMERCY  
How many do you know? That is, people like you- like us?

COURFEYRAC  
There's a whole group of us. You should come to one of our meetings.

PONTMERCY  
Meetings?

COURFEYRAC  
Yeah. Have I never told you? [ _Pontmercy shakes his head. _] Bossuet goes there. So does Feuilly. I'll bring you over sometime.

PONTMERCY  
Really?

COURFEYRAC  
Of course. Now, let's see what we can do with your hair until Feuilly comes.

PONTMERCY  
Thanks.

[_ Courfeyrac starts playing with Marius's hair again. _]

COURFEYRAC  
Don't thank me. It's just that you'll never look good as any gender with a haircut like that.

PONTMERCY  
I was proud of it.

COURFEYRAC  
You should be! From the sound of it, you didn't have a mirror in front of you.

PONTMERCY  
Well, no...

COURFEYRAC  
You should have kept the ponytail. We could hang it up on the wall to celebrate your first steps. It'll be a postmodern art piece: _Luscious Locks Unlocked_.

PONTMERCY  
What?

COURFEYRAC  
_Family Knots Untangled_. _Split from the Ends_. _The Tortoise Beats the Hair_. Get it? You're the tortoise.

PONTMERCY [_ looking at his shoes: _]  
That's disgusting, hair on the wall…

COURFEYRAC  
You know Italian, right? Are there any good Italian puns for this? The best art is always named in Italian.

PONTMERCY  
Because it's from Italy.

COURFEYRAC  
Hmm?

PONTMERCY  
It's named that way because it's _from_-

[_ There is a knock at the door. Courfeyrac walks over and opens it. There stands Feuilly, pre-transition and not too passing, simply dressed in neutral clothing. _]

FEUILLY  
You called?

COURFEYRAC  
Come on in.

[_ Feuilly takes a step inside and notices Pontmercy. _]

FEUILLY  
You must be Pontmercy.

PONTMERCY  
Pleasure to meet you, Mademoiselle, ah…

COURFEYRAC  
Pontmercy, this is Feuilly.

[_ The color drains from Pontmercy's face. His heart takes one massive, leaping beat before he manages to clear his throat. _]

PONTMERCY  
O-Oh. I'm s-

FEUILLY [_ almost automatically: _]  
Don't worry about it. [ _He walks over to Pontmercy and turns him around to look at the back of his head. He sits Pontmercy down. _] Hey, it's not nearly as bad as Courf made it out to be.

COURFEYRAC [_ dramatically: _]  
Can he be saved, Doctor?

FEUILLY  
Yes, but we'll have to act quickly. Nurse, scalpel. [ _He holds out his hand. He doesn't match Courfeyrac's energy or exaggeration, but he plays along as the calm and collected doctor. Courfeyrac hands him a pair of scissors. _] Tweezers. [ _Courfeyrac hands him a comb. _]

PONTMERCY  
What are you-

FEUILLY  
You have nothing to worry about, Sir. It's a routine procedure.

[_ Something in Pontmercy lights up at being called "Sir." _]

COURFEYRAC  
You can hold my hand if you need to, Pontmercy.

PONTMERCY  
Why would I-

[_ Feuilly gets to work, creating the now-familiar sound of hair being cut very close to Pontmercy's ear. Pontmercy tenses up and grabs Courfeyrac's hand. _]

FEUILLY  
This should smooth it out as a baseline. If you want any particular cut, now would be a good time to speak up.

PONTMERCY  
I- uh- I don't- well, I've never really- it's just that- uh...

FEUILLY [_flatly, __casting a sideways glance at Courfeyrac: _]  
Nurse, we're losing him.

COURFEYRAC  
Leave it to me, Pontmercy. You'll be the prettiest boy at the ball in no time. All the other guys at the meeting will swoon and envy your stylish hair. [ _Pause, considering. _] Well. You'll still lose out to one of them, I'm afraid.

FEUILLY  
Oh, he's interested in coming to a meeting?

COURFEYRAC  
I promised to bring him to one.

FEUILLY  
That'll be nice. We haven't had any new blood in a while.

PONTMERCY [_ faintly, with great terror: _]  
Blood? What do you need my blood for?

COURFEYRAC [_ softly: _]  
It's a turn of phrase.

FEUILLY [_ an aside: _]  
...On the other hand, they might eat him alive.

END SCENE


	2. Scenes 3 & 4

Note: No single viewpoint expressed in this fic necessarily reflects my own. This fic is political and involves a lot of dialogue happening within the trans community, and I think within many trans individuals as well.

So here are scenes 3 and 4. Marijuana usage in this chapter.

* * *

SCENE 3

[ _All tables and chairs surge forward to create the back room of the Café Musain. The sounds of chatter and clinking cups suggest a vivid world beyond its comfortably aged walls. Enjolras, Combeferre, Feuilly, Prouvaire, Bahorel, Joly, Bossuet, and Grantaire are all present, sprawled about in various states of attention. Combeferre observes his watch, which Enjolras occasionally leans over to look at. _]

ENJOLRAS  
What's delaying him?

COMBEFERRE  
It's probably the same thing that usually delays him. He'll be here soon.

ENJOLRAS  
He couldn't have sent a text telling us he would be late?

[_ Combeferre's phone dings. He looks at it. _]

ENJOLRAS  
Is it him?

COMBEFERRE  
He'll be here soon.

ENJOLRAS  
Alright. [ _Pause. _] We'll wait for him.

COMBEFERRE  
Good idea.

ENJOLRAS  
Could I see the agenda again? [ _Combeferre passes it to him. _] I'm starting to rethink the rally on the 8th. The forecast says it's going to storm all night. We should reschedule.

COMBEFERRE  
We could move it to the next weekend.

ENJOLRAS  
We'll put it to a vote as soon as Courfeyrac gets here. Why isn't he here? He still needs to report back on his meeting with the engineering students.

COMBEFERRE  
He'll be here soon. He got distracted by, in his words, "a priceless, precious baby boy."

ENJOLRAS [_ wincing: _]  
Is that what he's calling his partners, now? [ _He shakes his head to himself. _] Let's get started without him.

COMBEFERRE  
You said we would wait.

ENJOLRAS  
...Yes. You're absolutely right. We'll wait.

COMBEFERRE  
How is the correspondence with your parents going?

[_ Enjolras, holding back words, shrugs noncommittally. _]

COMBEFERRE  
That well?

ENJOLRAS  
Define "parents." France? The French Republic? It's going great, except for all of the socioeconomic problems looming over so many of her citizens.

COMBEFERRE  
The other parents- the physical ones.

ENJOLRAS  
Hmm. [ _Pause. _] What about your mother?

COMBEFERRE [_ taking the hint: _]  
She hasn't said anything, but it would be absurd to think she hasn't started to notice the changes. My range has dropped half an octave already.

ENJOLRAS  
Do you think she knows?

COMBEFERRE  
She'll figure it out when she's ready to figure it out.

[_ Bossuet, engaged in fervent conversation with Joly, laughs aloud. He turns and calls out to Enjolras and Combeferre: _]

BOSSUET  
Hey guys, what do you call a Tolkien Elven-king early in his transition?

COMBEFERRE  
I don't know, what do you call him?

BOSSUET  
A three-ring binder!

[_ Combeferre cracks an amused smile. Enjolras raises an eyebrow, not familiar enough with the reference. _]

ENJOLRAS  
A three-ring…

COMBEFERRE [_ helpfully: _]  
It's a reference to-

ENJOLRAS  
Tolkien, yes.

[_ He turns to Prouvaire. Prouvaire is the most visibly gender-nonconforming of those present, and he is transitioned in every possible sense. _]

ENJOLRAS  
Did you bring back that binder?

PROUVAIRE  
What kind of binder?

ENJOLRAS  
Three-ring. For paper.

PROUVAIRE  
Oh, yes. [ _Calling across the room: _] Grantaire, do you have that binder Enjolras gave me?

ENJOLRAS [_ an unconscious reaction: _]  
Wait, you gave it to _him _?

PROUVAIRE  
Yes.

ENJOLRAS  
...Of course, he has every right to see it. I only wish you would have let me know.

PROUVAIRE [_ not too gravely: _]  
Sorry.

[_ Grantaire, having pulled the binder from his bag, holds it up in the air. As he does so, some of the loose papers slip out from the bottom, scattering across his table. _]

GRANTAIRE [chipperly:]  
Ah, my bad.

[_ He starts to gather the papers up, but Enjolras has already rushed over to do it himself with absurd speed. Grantaire hands Enjolras the few papers that he has picked up. Enjolras's eyes scan the documents, and his brows furrow. _]

ENJOLRAS  
Did you mark these, or did Prouvaire?

GRANTAIRE  
You wanted critiques on your manifesto, yeah?

ENJOLRAS  
So _you _marked these.

GRANTAIRE  
I had some valuable insights.

[_ Enjolras holds up one of the pages. _]

ENJOLRAS  
This one just has "Get Good" written all over it in orange highlighter.

[_ Bahorel snorts. Enjolras's lips pull together tightly. _]

GRANTAIRE [_ biting his lip: _]  
Yeah, well. I probably shouldn't've hit that last blunt before I got started on it, but the past is past. Forgive me?

ENJOLRAS  
Grantaire- [ _He stops himself with a sigh. After putting the pages back into the binder, he returns to the center table with Combeferre. _] Where is Courfeyrac?

[_ The door opens. There is an instinctual tension that dissolves the moment it is clear that the new arrival is Courfeyrac. Pontmercy is close behind him, with a much better-looking haircut than before. _]

ENJOLRAS  
You brought your new lover?

FEUILLY [_ piping up from his seat: _]  
That's no lover; that's a Pontmercy.

ENJOLRAS  
A what?

COURFEYRAC  
Hello, everyone. I brought a new friend. This is Pontmercy. [ _He puts a hand on Pontmercy's shoulder, gently nudging him forward. _] He doesn't have a first name yet; we're working on it. And he's not out, so be careful if you talk about him outside of this space.

COMBEFERRE  
So this is the "precious baby boy."

COURFEYRAC  
The most! Say hi, Pontmercy.

PONTMERCY [_ cautiously: _]  
Good afternoon.

ALL  
Welcome; hello; hi, Pontmercy; etc.

COURFEYRAC  
Let's get you formally introduced. [ _He gestures to a table. _] Over here we have Joly, and of course you know Bossuet.

JOLY  
This is the one you've been telling me about, Boss?

BOSSUET  
Yep.

JOLY [_ to Pontmercy: _]  
You're taller than I would have thought.

PONTMERCY  
Thank you?

COURFEYRAC  
And next to Joly, that's Grantaire.

[_ Grantaire bends forward over the table to shake Pontmercy's hand. _]

GRANTAIRE  
You play pool?

PONTMERCY  
Not really.

GRANTAIRE  
Darts?

PONTMERCY  
I don't like sharp things.

GRANTAIRE  
Hmm.

PONTMERCY  
And my aim's no good. It's dangerous.

GRANTAIRE  
It is a dangerous game. You know I met a man who almost lost his house to a game of darts? That's the real danger. He was in with some, ah, loan sharks, I think it was...

[_ Grantaire stares ahead, lost in his story. Courfeyrac gestures to the opposing table and takes Pontmercy over to it. Grantaire continues to tell his story, though only Bossuet and Joly listen. _]

COURFEYRAC  
It's okay; he always does this. Here we have Prouvaire.

PROUVAIRE  
Charmed. Call me Jehan.

PONTMERCY  
Jehan? That's an uncommon one. Where does that come from?

PROUVAIRE  
I picked it out when I was young. My parents had more say than I did, so legally I'm Jean, but Jehan is more antique. It's poetic.

PONTMERCY  
Wait, how young?

PROUVAIRE  
I began socially transitioning at...hmm...eight? And then medically in my early teens.

PONTMERCY  
You can do that? Wow.

[_ Courfeyrac gestures to Bahorel, sitting next to Prouvaire. Before Courfeyrac can introduce Bahorel, he smacks his hand down on Pontmercy's shoulder and shakes his hand firmly. _]

BAHOREL  
Call me Bahorel.

PONTMERCY [_ anxious, but pleasantly: _]  
Hi, Bahorel.

BAHOREL  
And right there, that's my man Feuilly.

COURFEYRAC  
Oh, he's met Feuilly.

PONTMERCY  
Hello again.

FEUILLY  
Hey.

[_ Courfeyrac takes Pontmercy to the center table. _]

COURFEYRAC  
Next, we have Dr. Combeferre.

COMBEFERRE  
Not a doctor yet. Welcome to Les Amis de l'ABC. Please be sure to write your name on the sign-in sheet.

[_ He points to a sheet on the table. Pontmercy begins to mark his name down, but gets stuck before the pen even touches the paper. _]

COMBEFERRE  
Just your last name is fine.

[_ Pontmercy nods and writes his name down. When he looks up, he locks eyes with Enjolras, who has been quietly studying him. _]

COURFEYRAC  
Last but not least, here's our leader: Enjolras.

PONTMERCY  
Hello.

ENJOLRAS  
You're the first new member we've had in a long time.

PONTMERCY  
Oh?

ENJOLRAS  
I suppose Courfeyrac has told you about the kind of organization that we are?

PONTMERCY  
You're a support group, right? For...you know.

ENJOLRAS  
For trans men.

PONTMERCY  
Right.

ENJOLRAS  
That's true. We started out solely as a support group. However, we are also a political organization. If you look in our pamphlet, you'll find our mission statement and a general outline of our beliefs.

[_ Combeferre holds a pamphlet out to Pontmercy, who takes it and looks it over curiously. _]

PONTMERCY  
Wow, you...have a lot of grievances. Look, I'm sorry, but I don't know much about politics.

ENJOLRAS  
Then you're here for the support group? [ _Pontmercy nods. _] That's alright; if Courfeyrac brought you here, I'm sure this place is right for you. What do you need help with? Your transition plan?

PONTMERCY  
My what?

ENJOLRAS  
Your transition plan.

COMBEFERRE  
Les Amis de l'ABC has a list of resources and connections compiled regarding coming out, social transition, legal name and gender marker changes, hormone replacement therapy, top and bottom surgery, and other resources. While no one individual's transition looks the same, and you may not wish to go through all of the steps-

PONTMERCY  
Uh, um, w-wait, no. [ _Pause. _] I don't know if I want to go through _any _of the steps.

ENJOLRAS  
What do you mean?

PONTMERCY  
I don't know that I want to- that I'm really… [ _He clears his throat uncomfortably. _] I just want to change my name and maybe hang out for a while. To figure things out.

ENJOLRAS [_ dismissively: _]  
...I see.

PONTMERCY  
Sorry.

COURFEYRAC  
Don't be sorry. Come on, take a seat.

[_ Courfeyrac sits down. Pontmercy looks around, only to realize that there isn't another seat available. _]

COURFEYRAC  
Oh, yeah. We're too used to there being nine of us.

COMBEFERRE  
What about Gavroche?

COURFEYRAC  
Ah, he always sits on the table when he shows up. Does anyone know where to find another chair?

FEUILLY [_ standing up: _]  
I'll get one.

PONTMERCY  
Thank you.

FEUILLY  
No problem, man.

ENJOLRAS  
Wait. [ _He stands up. _] He can take my seat. I was about to get things started, anyway.

[_ Feuilly sits back down. Enjolras gestures Pontmercy over to his seat, and Pontmercy cautiously comes over, feeling the tangible amount of confusion and suspicion in Enjolras's gaze. Silence for a few moments after he sits. Grantaire's story is finally coming to a close. _]

GRANTAIRE  
...And all that over a game of darts.

[_ Enjolras clears his throat. _]

ENJOLRAS  
Welcome, Les Amis de l'ABC. We have a lot to discuss today, and we're a bit delayed, so let's get this done as efficiently as possible. To begin: due to recent weather forecasts, we should consider rescheduling our rally to the next weekend…

[_ The lights slowly dim. All exit except Enjolras and Grantaire. The middle table is pulled back, leaving two tables on opposing sides of the stage. _]

END SCENE

* * *

SCENE 4

[_ The two tables are independently lit. Enjolras picks up his three-ring binder and opens it. He stands on top of the stage right table. At the stage left table sits Grantaire, with his own copy of the three-ring binder open in front of him. He holds a blunt in one hand and an orange highlighter in the other. _]

ENJOLRAS  
Gender dysphoria is defined as discomfort with one's primary or secondary sex characteristics. It can also extend to the discomfort caused when an individual is socially perceived as their birth sex. In either case, gender dysphoria is a biologically rooted medical condition and cannot exist independently of biological discomfort. It is the defining characteristic of the transgender experience- the one thing which gives us commonality.

[_ Whenever Grantaire speaks, he writes what he's saying down on his copy of the manifesto. _]

GRANTAIRE [_ smirking: _]  
Oh, yeah?

ENJOLRAS  
Our community is rooted in suffering.

GRANTAIRE  
You've suffered so much, haven't you?

ENJOLRAS  
We suffer because of our bodies.

GRANTAIRE  
Rich…

ENJOLRAS  
We suffer because we were not supposed to be born in these forms.

GRANTAIRE  
...Skinny…

ENJOLRAS  
Because we are miscreated by nature.

GRANTAIRE  
...White…

ENJOLRAS  
Trapped in the wrong bodies.

GRANTAIRE  
...Boy.

ENJOLRAS  
The only way to normalize ourselves is through various medical procedures that put our health in jeopardy in order to match our bodies with our minds.

GRANTAIRE  
"Normalize?"

[_ Though Enjolras begins to respond to Grantaire, he doesn't look at him. _]

ENJOLRAS  
Yes.

GRANTAIRE  
Some of us don't want to be normal.

ENJOLRAS  
Now is not the time to get into intra-community politics. This is about how cisgender society views us and the tactics that we must use in order to earn their respect.

GRANTAIRE  
Some of us don't care about earning their respect because we shouldn't have to earn it. We should be able to just exist.

ENJOLRAS  
Well, good for you on not caring. Unfortunately, the lives of many transgender people are put at stake when we use arguments that don't try to maintain that respect. If you don't want to be respected, fine, but don't preach to those of us who are trying to make a difference in the most effective way we can under our given circumstances.

GRANTAIRE  
What respect are we maintaining? Have people ever respected us?

ENJOLRAS  
They _will _respect us. And people like us.

GRANTAIRE  
People like _you_. You naive, passing, post-transition, beautiful-

ENJOLRAS [_ through gritted teeth: _]  
You don't know my reality.

GRANTAIRE  
I can see it plain as day.

[_ Enjolras returns to reading from his manifesto. _]

ENJOLRAS [_ simultaneous with the below, growing more frustrated: _]  
The great problem facing our community is lack of access to resources, which is rooted in the broader cultural perception about transgender individuals. Transsexuality, like homosexuality, has long been considered a social ill. In order to dispel this myth, we must consider the transgender condition as a biological one, which cannot be helped and is present from the moment of birth, if not from our development in the womb. With this essay, I intend to-

GRANTAIRE [_ simultaneous with the above, building faster and louder, marking each phrase down in the manifesto with increasing vigor: _]  
Get good. Get. Good. Get good. Get good. Get good, get good, get good. Get. Good. Get good. Get good, get good, get good, get good get good get good get-

ENJOLRAS  
_Shut up!_

[_ Enjolras drops the three-ring binder and clutches his hair. Grantaire slowly puts the cap on his highlighter and sets it down. Finally, Enjolras faces Grantaire, who looks up at him with wide eyes. _]

ENJOLRAS [_ quietly: _]  
I don't have time for this.

GRANTAIRE  
Forgive me?

ENJOLRAS  
...Grantaire, why are you here?

[_ Grantaire stands up, reaching for the light on Enjolras's side of the stage. As his fingers nearly grace it, the light over Enjolras goes dark. Grantaire stumbles, but gets ahold of himself. He re-lights his blunt for one last hit. As he exhales, his light fades to black. _]

END SCENE


End file.
